


brittle bones and love letters

by theskylarshippers (coyotestoryteller)



Series: Laurenstober 2020 [5]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble, Drabble Sequence, Laurenstober 2020, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotestoryteller/pseuds/theskylarshippers
Summary: A 10x100 for Laurenstober 2020. Prompt for day nine: Alexander
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: Laurenstober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950412
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. gold

When he’d entered, he’d had no idea what he was walking into. Alexander’d been sprawled out on the floor, eyes half-closed, with his hair loose like a halo around him. The sunlight came through the window, tinting him with gold. He’d always been beautiful, in whatever state he was in, but here, in the light, at peace, he was stunning. John had never stood a chance against him. It didn’t help that his shirt was half-unbuttoned.

John’s voice had cracked when he called Alexander’s name. All he could do was pray Alexander hadn’t noticed.  _ He’ll be the death of me. _


	2. ink

He’d had no idea what he’d been getting into when he picked up the letter. He’d only meant to put the paper lying on one of the desks back in its place, but he’d been curious.

_ Why, it’s a love letter. To me.  _ No doubt about that-- it described him in enough soppy detail to make him blush. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but he’d found himself tucking it into his pocket. There was no signature, so he didn’t know who’d written it, but there’d been a line that stood out to him. 

_ Love, you’ll be the death of me. _


	3. ruin

It was an easy mistake to make. He knew that, after his discovery a few days ago. Even so, he’d thought of himself as more cautious, unlikely to do something so idiotic as to leave his sketches where someone could find them. Yet it’d taken him three hours to remember that he’d left a drawing on his desk, and by the time he’d hurried in to retrieve it, it was gone.  _ Who’d have taken it?  _ His stomach churned.  _ It’s only a drawing--  _ but someone who’d seen it surely would have seen straight through him, and his secret would be out.


	4. artistry

“You’re an artist, aren’t you?” Alexander had asked, leaning towards him. It’d been a late night, and they were the only ones still sitting up. They’d been writing, ostensibly, but John had been more focused on sneaking glances at Alexander. 

“Yes,” he’d said with trepidation. “Why?”

“Ah-- could you draw me?”

“That’s the most infuriating request anyone can make of an artist.”

“Why? Just a rough sketch. It’s only a drawing.”

He’d shrugged. “I’ll try.”

And now it was morning, and Alexander was sitting next to him, but try as he might, he couldn’t make himself sketch a single stroke.


	5. blood

John was bleeding. He knew it, too; he could feel it trickling through his fingers where he’d raised them to his mouth, but it didn’t seem to matter. The candle on the table next to him kept on flickering, burning lower; the room was drafty and the temperature quickly dropping, but he couldn’t seem to move. Alexander’s face was superimposed in front of his eyelids, though his hand was frozen to the spot. 

_ You can draw him. It’s easy. And you can show him, and he won’t know anything that goes through your head. _

He wasn’t managing to convince himself.


	6. amnesia

It must be luck that prevents Alexander from asking about the drawing the next day. Perhaps he’d forgotten all about it, since there were plenty of chances to bring it up. He’s starting to notice how often they’re alone together. It no longer seems like a good thing.

Drafts skated across the floor, chilling him to the bone. Still, he won’t let himself shiver. Why not add another thing to the pile of secrets?

He’s bleeding still. There are wounds on the inside of his heart, but no one notices, and he’s trying his hardest to keep it that way.


	7. lips

“You’re hurt,” Alexander said softly. “Your lip is bleeding.”

He shrugged it off and slides an inch away. Somehow Alexander has wound up entirely too close to him without seeming to realize it. That’s happened far too often recently, and he’s decided it definitely isn’t good for him. “It’s not all that bad.”

“Why is it bleeding?” Alexander was too close to him again, and his fingers touched his lips, wiping the blood off. He’d held his breath; there’d been concern in those beautiful eyes, concern directed at him, and he thought he’d die from it, but the moment passed.


	8. secrets

“Tell me a secret.”

He glared at him, put on a show of stubbornness. “No.”

“Why not?” 

Behind the teasing tone, he glimpsed genuine hurt, and it nearly broke his heart in half. “I don’t have any.”

“Not a one?” Alexander pouted at him, moving ever closer.

“Not one I’d tell you.”

“Oh, I’m sure your secret isn’t all that bad. Mine is certainly worse.”

“What’s  _ your  _ secret?”

Alexander glanced away, suddenly coy, then back, his eyes flashing. “I wrote a love letter. But it never reached its recipient, because I left it in public view and someone took it.”


	9. risks

His throat went dry. “If it hadn’t been stolen-- would you have sent it?”

“Most likely not. The one I love undoubtedly doesn’t love me back. Who would love someone like me?” Alexander laughed a little bit.

“You must be joking. Who could resist you?”  _ What kind of thing is that to say to someone? _

“My love, apparently. Now will you tell me your secret?”

John couldn’t make himself look at Alexander’s face. “I’m in love with someone, too. And I’m terrified to admit it to the one I love.”

“Maybe you should take a risk once in a while.”


	10. yes

Alexander is looking at him, a thousand emotions on his face-- fear? Trepidation? Excitement? Perhaps, hidden below a thousand layers of cloth and stone, love?

He forces out the words, breaking the seal on his secrets. “Did you write that letter to me?”

He doesn’t get an answer. “Do you want me like that?”

“Yes,” he says, and there lies the risk, but he’s gone too far now. “Do you love me back?” 

  
Then Alexander is hugging him, and their faces are so close he can feel Alexander’s breath, and just before their lips meet he hears him whisper “ _ Yes.” _


End file.
